Angels hover in unseen places,

Fly all around us on weightless wings.

They speak great truths in ancient voices

And bring spiritual grace

In deep, soulful dreams.

So rarely do we get to see them

Rarer still, do we get to hear

The soft, sweet assurance

They wish to tell us,

That we’re truly safe,

While they are near.

The voice they use is the rush of waters,

Cascading down a swollen stream.

Their song is that of gentle breezes blowing

And rustling through the leaves of trees.

If we use our eyes to try and see them,

Then we’ve lost touch with what they’re about,

The riddle is that their blessed presence,

Is found within

And not

Without!

Michael Taylor©